Our Dream of Ice
by KilledByCreativity
Summary: After hockey practice, Gilbert finds himself watching Matthew as he practices figure skating secretly. When Matthew's skating life comes close to an end with a life threatening injury, Gilbert vows to himself that he will take care of Matthew and make sure that he keeps skating. Gilbert finds himself caught up in the skating world as he becomes Matthew's Olympic partner. PruCan AU


**Prologue**

_German : Mein Gott – My God_

_Mein Schatz – My Sweetheart_

_French : Un, Deux – One, Two_

Gilbert slammed his locker door, slinging his school bag over his shoulder. A sharp laugh escaped his throat as he was clapped on the back by his closest friend, Antonio. A familiar, cheerful sound of clattering hockey sticks against each other was present as a large team of high school boys forced their way through the locker room door and into the school's ice rink. The chilled air immediately brought a rosy color to Gilbert's albino cheeks. The color matched his ruby eyes. Next to him, Antonio looked hopefully around the room.

"I wonder if Lovino is going to show up," He said with a low, thick, Spanish accent. The boys around him snickered. Antonio was always looking for his 'best friend' that he just so happened to be head over heels in love with. That's what everybody thought, anyways.

"I wonder if you'll ever loose that accent. It's not as awesome as mine," Gilbert laughed, making sure his voice sounded more German than usual. The only reason these boys were so close was because they had gone through similar fates both had only just moved to western Canada from their home countries earlier in the year. Gilbert was from Germany, and Antonio from Spain. Their school was practically the melting pot of foreign students. From albino Germans to creepy Russians to ridiculous Frenchmen, Maple Creek High School was the place to meet new, interesting people.

"Let's tear zis ice up!" Francis, a blond Frenchman cried from behind, shoving Antonio onto the fresh ice. The large group behind them laughed loudly. Luckily, each boy (and one very scary Russian girl) was accustomed to being shoved around on the ice so Antonio played it off well.

"Why don't you come after me and help?" Antonio teased, suddenly shooting off onto the far end of the rink. Francis gave a lopsided smile.

"I'm going to destroy him today!" A high fit of laughter erupted from the French boy's throat as he went tearing off across the ice towards the Spanish boy. Antonio danced and kicked as if doing and Irish jig. He giggled maliciously and sped off to get away from Francis. Before any of them knew it, Francis and Antonio were shoving each other against the walls, laughing hard.

Gilbert couldn't help but to smile. This is how it was every day; a crazy fun filled afternoon full of hockey and smashing friends against ice with the occasional loss of a tooth or three. Racing out onto the cold sheet that he was oh so in love with, Gilbert laughed a maniac's laugh and beckoned for the rest of his team to join in for a long, hard practice.

Later that night, though, well after sunset, the hockey team cleared out one by one. Gilbert was the last out. Carrying a bag full of hockey paraphernalia and a school bag, the high school student silently dragged himself out of the locker room. He pushed back his sweat slicked hair and fished for the keys in his pockets.

Just as he found his keys, a soft humming sound and the click of shoes against the cement of the gym's lobby echoed around the corner. Gilbert looked up in time to see another boy come around the corner, facing down and humming softly. This boy was called Matthew Williams. He was one of the smartest, most talented boys in the school. He was quiet and very shy. He was the older step brother to one of Gilbert's toughest teammates, Alfred Jones, an American.

Rather than responding like a normal person, Gilbert reacted by running back into the locker room before he was spotted. He threw his hockey gear back into his locker and curiously began to follow the boy. The small, quiet blond marched right into the rink, sitting in the front row of the stands. He changed into sleek, black ice skates. To Gilbert's utter surprise, Matthew was not hesitant to walk onto the ice and… He was amazing.

Instantly, Matthew gracefully skated out to the center of the rink, twirling and landing beautifully. He looked free. He was a bird against a bright sky, using his arms for balance the way a bird would use its wings to maneuver through trees. A determined smile was ever present on the Canadian boy's face as his skates cut into the ice. He never even slipped.

Gilbert was captivated.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

So, from then on, Gilbert always stayed late to watch Matthew practice secretly. He quietly winced each time the skater would take a fall, smashing hard against the ground. Gilbert had to fight the will to go out and help him back up. Each day afterwards, Matthew would come off the ice, his red hoodie that read 'Canada' on the front and his last name displayed on the back dusted with snow that he and the hockey team made from their skates.

Matthew, unlike Gilbert, could not be stopped. If Gilbert took a hard fall like Matthew, even with his padding on, he'd be off the ice immediately. If he'd ever managed to nick his ankles on intricate twirls like Matthew did, he'd come off to bandage them. Matthew was unstoppable. He was inspiring. He never gave up. He had practices that would truly show his inner talent and draw Gilbert closer, and he also had practices where he would come off covered in snow, blood, sweat, and tears of frustration.

Today was not one of Matthew's good days though. He'd taken a particularly hard fall and cut deep into his thigh as he fell. He sat there, staring at the large, open wound as it gushed onto the ice. He smiled to be in shock. Gilbert, from so far away, couldn't watch any longer.

"Matthew!" he cried, leaping up from his hiding in the top row of the stands. He ran down as fast as he could without falling. Of course, he didn't have enough time to change into skates. Pushing his luck, Gilbert stepped onto the ice, carefully sliding his way to the young, bleeding boy. Matthew might have been only a junior, and they may not have been close friends, but that could change, right? As a senior, Gilbert had to watch out for people. It was the duty he'd taken upon himself when he met Alfred, a sophomore. Nobody would touch his younger friends, and he'd never let them be in pain for long.

"Mein Gott, Matthew!" Gilbert gasped, kneeling down next to the blond boy. The Canadian looked up fearfully, his eyes watering.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt? How do you know me?" Matthew asked in a very quiet, scared voice. His hands trembled. "Why are you here?"

"That's beside the point! Oh, Gott," Gilbert was beginning to panic as he saw Matthew begin to sway just the slightest but. "Mattie, I need you to stay awake, talk to me, I'm calling an ambulance." Gilbert breathed slowly, trying to control himself.

"What? Talk to you? A- About what?" Matthew whispered, trying to shove his glasses back up his nose. His eyes fluttered sleepily as he breathed in Gilbert's soothing pine and lavender scent.

"Anything, recite the national anthem in French!" Gilbert spluttered, pulling his phone anxiously from his pocket. Dialing the number, he only had to wait a few seconds.

"Hello, what is your emergency?" a soft female voice asked with almost a bored tone.

"My- My friend fell when he was ice skating. His thigh is cut really deep. We are at the Maple Creek High School ice rink," Gilbert said, vaguely listened as Matthew murmured French words that he didn't understand.

"Okay, I'll send someone immediately," the woman said, and then hung up. Gilbert, eyes wide with panic, turned back toward Matthew who had resorted to counting.

"Un, deux…" Matthew trailed on, beginning to lay back. Gilbert held him upright.

"You can't sleep now," Gilbert whispered, holding him from behind. Matthew now sat in his lap, bleeding onto both of their jeans.

Within then minutes, blaring sirens grew louder and bright lights flooded into the lobby. Matthew held tight to Gilbert like a lifeline, his head tilted back and labored breaths hissed from between his parted lips. His nose pressed against and tickled Gilbert's jaw, but neither pays attention. The doors burst open and the paramedics couldn't get onto the ice. Gilbert carefully scooped up Matthew, careful not to injure his leg any further. He shakily made his way across the rink.

"Lay him down here," the paramedics pushed their stretcher closer as Gilbert neared them. He tried not to hyperventilate as he gently sat Matthew down.

"Thank you Gilbert," Matthew whispered weakly, reaching out for Gilbert's hand in a daze.

"It's fine," Gilbert winced at how tightly Matthew gripped his fingers. For a small boy, he was very strong.

"Alright, we need to get going," one of the other men cleared his throat. He started pulling Matthew away from Gilbert.

"I'm going with you," Gilbert insisted, following along and keeping his hand on Matthew's.

"Er," the paramedics looked at each other hesitantly. "Just don't get in the way." Gilbert nodded at this and they all began to wheel Matthew away towards the ambulance.

**OOoOoOoOoO**

Gilbert stared out of the high window of Matthew's hospital room. He had refused to leave the figure skater's side. He was covered with a thin, scratchy blanket on a chair in the room, watching the stars. Outside, a church bell rang twelve times. Matthew slept soundly, his leg wrapped tight and stitched back up. The doctor's awful words echoed through Gilbert's mind.

_'He may never skate again if he doesn't heal correctly. The odds are not in his favor.' _

Gilbert remembered the way Matthew had tried so hard not to cry when they were stitching him up. Despite his tightly clenched teeth and the strength he used to clutch Gilbert's hand, the tears were inevitable. Even later, after Matthew thought that Gilbert was asleep, the smaller boy had fallen asleep that night, thinking he would never skate again, and oh how he cried. Gilbert, the usually very strong German, had completely lost it at that moment. He had buried his head in his arms, biting his lip as burning droplets fell from his ruby eyes.

Now, staring out the window with tearstained cheeks and in a numb daze, Gilbert made a vow for himself. He would not leave Matthew's side until he was healed. That boy would keep skating no matter what, and Gilbert would stay right alongside him.

Gilbert Beilschmidt was going to become a figure skater.

**OOoOoOoOoO **

_~One Year After the Accident~_

"Come on Gil, you can do this," Matthew encouraged his friend in a soft voice. Gilbert lied flat on his back in the middle of the ice. His eyes shone with exhaustion and determination as he pushed himself off the ground. Brushing snow off of his back, he resumed the previous position and placed his hands back on Matthew's shoulders. Matthew rested his hands timidly on Gilbert's waist.

"Alright," Gilbert panted. "Three, two, one…" The two pushed off with the toes of their skates, and Gilbert had to try hard not to trip over Matthew's feet. This ice dance of theirs was the most difficult yet. They'd been copying a beautiful dance put on by the current Olympic Canadian figure skating team. They had only just watched the dance performed live hours before they had let themselves into their college's skating center. Due to great grades, Matthew was permitted to teach and work with Gilbert on the ice. Most importantly, he was allowed to be on the community college figure skating team. This was the first time that a student still in high school was ever allowed on a college team.

Now, Gilbert was being thrown into the air, spinning in tight circles and hoping that Matthew would be there to catch him. When he successfully landed in Matthew's strong arms, Gilbert began laughing and broke away from the dance all together.

"Kesesesese, we've done it!" he exclaimed with his odd, sharp laugh. He sped off around the rink at high speeds. Matthew giggled to himself quietly. Gilbert was surely hard to work with.

"Yeah, whatever, close enough," Matthew laughed, skating slowly over to the exit of the ice. As Gilbert passed by, Matthew grabbed the back of the albino's sweatshirt and hauled him off the now snowy ice. Gilbert laughed again, causing his partner to shiver. His laugh really _was _creepy. They didn't take long changing back into their regular shoes, and as they walked out onto the empty, cold campus, they noticed three figures skipping towards them, arms linked at the elbows.

"Gilbert!" A familiar Spanish accent cried, and Antonio, Lovino, and Alfred all skidded to a stop in front of the two exhausted boys. Gilbert raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest in response.

"They- They want us on the team, the _Olympic_ hockey team!" Alfred shook with excitement and thrust a document into Gilbert's hands.

"Wait, w_hat?!" _Gilbert's eyes widened as Alfred spoke. Was this a joke? Gilbert's eyes quickly skimmed over the long, complicated document. In a nutshell, it read,

_'To the team of Captain Gilbert Beilschmidt of Maple Creek Community College,_

_After viewing your previous hockey games and three years of almost undefeated playing, we would like to offer a place for the following players on the Canadian Olympic Hockey Team._

_-Gilbert Beilschmidt_

_-Antonio Carriedo_

_-Alfred Jones_

_-Francis Bonnefoy_

_We have overseen your playing abilities and invite you to join the Canadian team in the next Winter Olympics._

_Signed,_

_The Olympic Organizing Committee _

Gilbert's mouth hung open and everybody was staring at him. Antonio and Alfred gave huge smirks. Matthew and Lovino glanced at each other, knowing that they were the odd ones out of this celebration. Lovi gave a small shrug as if to say, '_what are you gonna do, eh?'_

"We are going to the freaking Olympics, the _Olympics_," Gilbert murmured in awe. His quiet shock only lasted briefly. "WE ARE GOING TO THE FREAKING OLYMPICS!" He suddenly screamed, causing Matthew's heart to leap into his chest and Lovino to jump back in surprise. Alfred and Antonio, however, seemed to be used to Gilbert's outbursts. The German pulled his teammates into headlocks and began jumping all around in joy. "Mein Gott," he kept murmuring.

Gilbert celebrated for a good five minutes before finally pulling back and nudging Matthew. Matthew gave a weak thumb up. Gilbert was achieving the dreamed that Matthew had worked so hard towards, right in front of his eyes.

"Good job, Gil," he whispered with a forced smile. Inside, he was overly jealous, and feeling crushed, he began to slowly retreat from the group. He would return to his dorm and most likely lay on he and Gilbert's couch for the rest of the evening. Could Matthew possibly survive such a length of time away from Gilbert? Surely he'd miss Gilbert's shower singing and being treated like he was worth something. Matthew _needed_ Gilbert, and in a way, they depended on each other.

"Mattie! Where are you going?" Gilbert cried when he noticed the young boy disappearing down the path to the dorms. Gilbert waved a quick goodbye to everyone else and ran off towards Matthew. Up near him, Gilbert stops Matthew outside their building. "Mattie what is wrong with you?" Gilbert cried worriedly, his hand on Matthew's shoulder. Matthew shrugged and turned to walk into the building. Gilbert followed. Immediately inside the lobby, Matthew walked over ti the wall that was considered the mail room of his dorm building.

"You're going to be gone for quite a long time," Matthew murmured, unlocking his square cubicle of a mailbox that he'd once painted entirely red with a white maple leaf. The edges of it were painted as if it was once frozen over with frost on the edges. Matthew was truly, artistically talented, and this was the only thing that made his mailbox different from the dozens of others that surrounded it.

"It's four years away though!" You'll probably be sick of me by then," Gilbert said, his eyes soft as he felt sympathy for his closest friend. Matthew did not respond, and he pulled mail out of his cubical. He suddenly froze as his hands brushed across paper than the rest. It wasn't even an envelope; just a paper folded three times. Matthew unfolded it. He gasped as he read it. This letter was exactly the same as Gilbert and his teams'. It was inviting both Gilbert and him to compete in the next Winter Olympics figure skating event.

"Gil," Matthew breathed in anticipation and shock. "Gil we are going to the Olympics _together_." Matthew dropped the bag he was holding and threw himself at Gilbert. Gilbert smiled and hugged him tightly in return, whispering into the smaller boy's hair,

"It only gets better from here, mien Schatz.'


End file.
